


The Story of You and Me

by Sparky (tapsters)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapsters/pseuds/Sparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of the Dragonborn and the man who loved her from A to Z.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A is for Accord

When she is fighting, she stops being Vivyne.

She becomes the ideal, the aspiration. She becomes a storm of blades, a whirlwind of death and destruction with legionnaires left behind in the wake of her. A Daughter of Skyrim with Her strength behind Vivyne’s sword and Her valor spread through the plates of her armor.

He has never seen anything like her, an elf with the blood of a True Nord in her, pumping through her heart steady like a stream. This place was not her home, but she was carving out a place for herself there, clean through to Skyrim’s heart.

And when they are together on the field, they are a terror. His girth conceals her, his wide chest like a shield and from behind him, she leaps to strike at the Imperials. Her swords are precise in practiced hand, a blur of steel slice and cutting and striking down with frightful ease. He names her Stormblade, their champion, their hero and the Stormcloaks cheer for her. Galmar claps her across the shoulder, offers her a horn of mead and sings bawdy tavern ballads with her at his side. They laugh together like old friends around the fire. He likes these times with her, when they are together in the quiet calm of the night and he can see her and he likes what he sees, what little of her she is willing to bare to him.

The Legion, he muses, must cower before her. He smiles when he thinks of the rumors circulating in the Legion camps. She’s a slip of a woman, her armor a clever lie, but they must’ve built her up into a monster. 30 feet tall and with breath of fire —- an unstoppable force of vengeance for slights Ulfric can only guess at.

Still, he watches her, when he thinks no one is watching him and he sees in her kindred blood. He wants their love of Skyrim to bind them so that when this war ends, the empire crumbles to ash and shaken to its root in Cyrodiil, she would remain at his side. He would need his Storm-of-Blades for Skyrim’s liberation and for her defense.

What carries her through this fight, what brought her to this war at all, Ulfric likes to think he understands. The sins of the empire were numerous, spread across the sky like stars. He imagine he knows the whole of her backstory. Imagines he sees it in the way she carries herself, in her prideful gait, the confident sway of her hips, the strong rattle of her Voice. But she says little of it and even less to him and he likes to pretend he doesn’t care at all.

He knows her story. She is a warrior and the battlefield is her home. Her loyalty is firmly at his side, her blade and honor promised to Skyrim’s cause for Freedom. He knows her story he thinks and for now, he could be content with that much.


	2. B is for Ballad

When they sang about Ulfric, they called him killer of kings and Vivyne supposed that was true. Torygg certainly was dead, at the hands of the Jarl of Windhelm. But Vivyne also understood Nord tradition and Torygg had earned his fate the moment he took up arms against Skyrim’s truest Son.

So when the songs were being written about him, Vivyne imagined it was not difficult to focus on the negative things about him, about the blood on his hands. The Thalmor had conditioned the world to hate him and what he stood for. So, it would be easier to think of him as a faceless monster, someone as vile as a bloodsucker skulking in the darkest of Skyrim’s caves. They called him greedy and spoiled, an insatiable thirst for power with a sword clenched in its hands. To them, he was a horror.

It is only after she knows him that this pains her. Because they do not know the Ulfric who loves as fiercely as he hates. Was as tender as he was rough about his edges. She saw that Ulfric in the way his eyes burned when he looked at her and when he addressed his men. Heard the passion for his country when they were alone and he sought her counsel. And when he kissed her behind the closed door of her quarters in the Palace of Kings.

Ulfric was many things - Warrior, soldier, Nord, set in his ways, Lover - and it was a pity that the bards who sang of his killing would never know it.

Vivyne was glad she did.


End file.
